Hanging On
by caitewarren
Summary: It was moments this Snow was bitterly reminded of her own daughter's sarcasm mixed with the sass of her pseudo son-in-law the pirate. Meara the child of Killian&Emma is sent back in time to save her half-brother Henry and get a chance to met the parents she'd always heard about.
1. Chapter 1

She'd always been told she was beautiful from nearly everyone she met. They'd gush over her long straight dark locks of blackish blue hair and her greenish blue eyes that were framed by her father's long eyelashes. Meara had never quite understood how one would determine whose eyelashes she'd inherited but she'd force a smile upon her face and thank whomever it was who said it.

"Meara Grace you do realize it is past noon don't you?" admonished her Gran who after entering the bedchamber rushed hurriedly to the blinds and drew them back allowing massive amounts of sunlight to streak into the dimly light room. Meara squinted and sunk deeper into the cocoon of blankets that had gathered during her night's sleep, "it is time to greet the day young lady."

Meara grunted, "_greet _the day?" she repeated mockingly, "Gran I think you're losing it in your old age."

Gran wasn't really old. She was perhaps forty-five or forty-six, Meara wasn't quite sure, she'd be the same age as Emma, Meara's mom. It was still an odd unsettling fact to mull over that her mother and grandmother were the same age due to an horrid curse that ripped them from their home.

Snow White smirked half-heartily. It was moments like this when she was bitterly reminded of her own daughter's sarcasm mixed with the sass of her pseudo son-in-law the pirate. It left a stinging feeling in the pit of her stomach. One of regret and lingering pain, one she buried under raising Meara.

"Do we have do anything _today_?" Meara inquired propping herself up on her elbows letting out a long yawn.

Snow frowned, "nothing formal planned but I think your Gramps would like a rematch."

Meara chuckled rolling her eyes. She'd excelled at the physical aspects of being a future queen, archery, horseback riding, sword play but anything domestic dancing at balls, addressing subjects or sitting still upon the throne made her aloof and uncertain. It was in those ways Emma shined through in her. She was quite sneaky. Often escaping formal events by disappearing silently and reappearing only at the every end, she was finicky in her decision making often waiting and watching, it was in those aspects she was like Hook-er Killian.

"Can I take Sondra for a ride?"

Snow raised an eyebrow, "Meara you're fifteen. A young woman-her granddaughter cringed, "you're perfectly capable of making your own decisions."

It was the strangest thing. Meara absolutely despised anything being related to her birthday or getting older. She'd throw fits refusing to go to balls held in her own honor. She'd find quite devious ways of shooing away possible suitors for herself. She was not interested in men, she'd insist, adventure was much more thrilling.

Sondra had been gifted to her on her third birthday by Cinderella's daughter Alexandra. It was a pureblood. Black as night in color and just as wild and free as she was, Sondra never let another soul ride her. Not one. Unbeknownst to her grandparents she'd traveled to many of the outer villages. There was one town Cottle that rested on a beautiful lake that was home to all sorts of creatures. She'd come across fairies and dwarves and even an elves. There was one who'd always taken an interest in her, Lanolin. He was elderly with wrinkled dried over skin but he'd tell the greatest tales. One of the tales being about a young elf named Keera falling in love with a human prince of one of the northern lands, despite it going against the most important rule of all elves. _Falling in love with a human_. Keera was threatened to be shunned by all of her elves, her family, to never speak to any of them again. She insisted the love she felt for the human man was much too great to let it go. Lanolin would never finish the tale, rather drifted off to sleep in the middle of it, but it'd left her entranced by it. Love so strong that an elf would break it's ties to it's tribe certainly must be true.

"Lanolin?!" Meara called out as she dismounted her horse.

Like always he sat on one of the cobble stone wells waiting for her. His wild grayish strains of hair resting in disarray upon his tiny little skull. A sack rested on his lap and a smile graced his impish features. His eyes, orbs, were gleaming as his glance fixated upon her.

"Meara, Meara, I have found a way to save Keera's son."

"_Son_?" repeated Meara in disbelief, "Keera had a son with Andante?"

Lanolin's smile faded replaced by regret and shame as he hung his little head, "aye. And her son had a daughter," his hands(three fingers on each) fiddled with the sack, "you. You're the daughter."

When she was little despite her grandparents telling her not to she'd climb all the trees of the courtyard. And almost always she'd lose her grip or miss a step and she'd tumbled to the ground getting all of the wind knocked cleanly out of her. She'd be left on the cold marble floor gasping for air. It was how she'd felt at that moment.

Lanolin sighed in a deep heavy exasperated breathe, "shortly after Keera was shunned she fell pregnant. Andante's father passed and he was now king and his ego certainly swelled and wishing for only human sons he'd sent her away. Heartbroken and pregnant she'd wandered the lands for months on the brink of death. Her son was born barely breathing but somehow he did. His name was Killian Jones."

Unable to think of what else to do Meara quietly spin her engraved golden ring, running her fingers over her initials _M.G. S.J., _Meara Grace Swan-Jones, repeatedly as she shifted from one foot to another.

"I am much too old for the journey. _Please_ Meara you must save Keera's son. Your father," Lanolin pleaded his orbs of eyes growing wide as he begged, "you've always wanted to know your parents. Save them. _Please_?" his voice growing faint and weak, "I could not save my child, I want to save her child." He thrust the bag into her arms and before she could react or respond a glowing white light emitted itself from the bag swallowing her wholly into it's contents.

**Storybrooke, 2013**

In all of his years spent traversing the many lands he'd grown accosted to all sorts of creatures, of magic, and learned to believe that anything and everything is quite possible, but to say he wasn't the least bit startled by the unconscious life-form on the deck of his ship early that morning would be an outright lie. The raven-haired teenage girl if he'd had to guess say she'd be maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, not quite a child but not quite yet an adult. Her face was thin and narrow but her body was narrow and flat like that of a child's. Her attire consisted of a dirtied broaches and a shredded silk dress suggesting she did not hail from Storybrooke but rather another land. She was a tiny thing making moving her an easy task.

She muttered softly incoherently stirring violently in his arms causing him to stagger as he attempted to readjust his grip to keep her from injuring herself but she kept squirming and fell out of his grasp smacking onto the deck with a loud thud.

"Lass? Are you all right?"

"No." the girl bluntly responded rubbing her sore head where it'd made contact with the wooden planks. Her head ached, her vision was blurred and she felt as though she was still spinning. Or maybe she was.

"Well take it slow you hit your head pretty hard."

Meara slowly turned her head in the direction of the speaker, her mouth hanging agape as she attempted to take in his entire appearance. His azure blue eyes, slightly ruffled hair and the hook, her eyes fixating upon the attachment, he extended his good hand to her pulling her off the ground and onto her feet.

"Didn't you mum tell you starring is rude?" he inquired leaning against the wall and folding his arms hiding his hook, "who are you?"

"Meara," she replied weakly.

"Meara?" he asked and she nodded enthusiastically trying to commit to memory the sound of his voice speaking her name, "aye like the sea. What are you doing on my ship?"

There was something oddly familiar about her. The way she moved and spoke. It was unsettling. He was nearly certain he'd never laid eyes on her before. She was a nervous little thing constantly fiddling with her hair, tucking it behind her slightly pointed ears and then again as she shifted back and forth on her feet, as though she were a child waiting for a scolding.

"Well?"

"I'm your daughter…well I will be…or am being…," she hurriedly said before looking down at her feet.

**A/N: Please, please, tell me what you think. And no offense to Colin or Hook or anything but he does sorta kinda have elfish ears which is where the story with Lanolin, Keera and Andante plays into it and I needed someone to send Meara back in time. **


	2. Chapter 2

There was a time when she was six or seven maybe. It was nearing her birthday because the first tulips and roses had began to bloom. Gran always made it a tradition to go out to the courtyard and pick up bundles and bundles of them to decorate the ballroom. Meara would spend hours trying to get the birds to talk to her like they did her grandmother not quite understand that birds could not actually talk and grew quite frustrated with herself. Gran and Gramps would only smirk at each and share laughter at her expense only angering her further. When one of the squires or perhaps one of the guards came running up to talk to Gran and Gramps Meara dashed away running as fast as her small legs would carry her. She kept running out onto the draw bridge and onto the lands outside of the castle. It felt like an eternity starring at the mysterious monstrous forest that enclosed around the castle. Gran and Gramps were quite angry, they explained how much she'd frightened them, but sitting upon her throne in the grand ballroom made her feel small and inferior and anything but wanted and loved.

It was how she felt now underneath his baring unrelenting glance. His glacial blue eyes examining her, perhaps searching for himself in her, but either way it was unnerving her.

"You know most people say I look _exactly _like you 'cept I have Emma's eyes." Meara whispered sitting up straighter and placing her hands on her lap. If he'd heard her he made no notion of it, rather he began to stroke at his shin with his good hand, "c'mon you don't see it?" She tucked pieces of her hair behind her pointy 'elfish' ears, "even got your elf ears."

"I most certainty do not have elf ears," he declared folding his arms against his chest, "how do I know you're not some kind of swindle of the crocodile?"

"A _what_?"

"Hoax, ruse, a trick."

Meara sighed exasperatedly, "you can spot a liar can't you? Or was that Mom's superpower?" and then she added, "you really don't see the resemblance? I mean I know I don't have a hook for a hand but we do certainly have the same hair, the same shape eyes, the same nose…,"

"Let's just say you're my daughter what are you doing here?"

"Weren't you listening to my story?"

"Yes let me rephrase, lass, what do you plan to do now that you're here?"

The way he said _lass _so coldly, so detached irked her. Gran once said he used to taunt Emma by calling her love and lass, anything to not say her name. Names were personal, powerful, little objects and perhaps commitment terrified him. He was a pirate Gramps would sneer. A pirate who he thought wasn't fit to be with his little girl or fit to be a father. They had quite a few rows about fatherhood.

"My name is not lass. It's Meara. _You _picked it out whilst Emma was out cold drugged up on pain meds apparently she gave you hell for having the mettle to name her baby without consulting her."

"That's a lovely tale," he proclaimed shaking his head slightly and glancing around the tiny cabins. She was a beautiful child and he wanted nothing more than to believe every word spoken but couldn't. Rumpelstiltskin was in New York City, powerless and a mere meek cowardly man as he'd been when he first stumbled upon his ship. Revenge consumed his mind. Gathering a few worn and ripped blankets from one of the bunks he placed them on her lap before limply beginning to walk away clutching at the sides of his chest, the sharp shooting pains made him wince and bite down on his tongue whilst attempting to smother his desire to scream out in pain which would only make it hurt more.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Walking," he answered a sly smug toying at the sides of his lips. She sounded so much like Emma in that moment, "I am setting voyage to New York City and I assume you're accompanying me."

"Well what choice do I have?"

"Don't try and sound too enthused Swan…..or is it Jones?"

"Neither, it's Swan-Jones."

"Swan-Jones?" he scoffed rolling his eyes, "Emma _would _do something as ridiculous as that."

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay in this story but I kind of had writer's block and school finals and such. Anyway I do hope you enjoy Meara's tale.**


	3. Chapter 3

Something felt terribly aloof, Emma Swan mused as she paced the worn decks of the Jolly Roger, occasionally glancing towards Henry and Neal er Baelfire navigating the ship. Confusion? Yes. Guilt, possibly a teeny tiny amount for leaving the irritating enigma of a pirate locked in a closet in Manhattan, but those emotions didn't really do justice to the uneasiness that had settled into the pit of her stomach.

Descending into the lower deck she peeked her head into the Dark One's cabin hesitating slightly to make sure his chest was still rising and setting. It was albeit, unevenly and staggered.

Meara's ability to thieve and escape the castle's guards was always compared to the likes of her parents, but at this very moment she felt as though everyone had been lying. No matter what she tried the rope elaborately tied to her right wrist was not coming undone.

For a while Meara allowed herself to think things were going quite well between the two of them. He'd taught her how to sail, mused over old tales and began to refer to her by her name rather than lass, he'd even offered her his bed. It melted her into that tiny child who wanted-still wants nothing more than to be held and cherished by her long lost parents. Who spent years dreaming of the massive sails appearing on the bay beside the castle, they'd come straight to her bed chamber, gather her up in their arms and whisper words of adoring and they'd live happily ever after.

Emma wasn't quite sure what to think of the sight before her. The girl couldn't be more than fourteen perhaps and appeared too absorbed in trying to escape the ropes than in her presence. The girl's raven colored hair fell over her face masking it from view, making judgment quite difficult. Her clothes appeared to be styled more after the Enchanted forest, was she an escapee? A refugee? A prisoner? Tryst?  
Emma shivered at the thought and quickly debunked it. She was dressed much too nicely to be of that standard or a refugee for that matter.

"Emma?" the child whispered her emerald eyes wide in shock as they ravenously roomed around her whole face seemingly capturing a picture in her mind.

"Who the hell are you?"

The woman who'd given her life was standing a mere few feet away and all Meara could manage was an incoherent mumblings underneath her breathe as she took in all that Emma Swan was.

"Emma?!" another voice called out, "Dad says we're docking soon!"

Dad? Since when did Henry refer to Neal as _Dad_? Emma momentarily forgot the existence of the girl as Henry plodded into the captain's quarter's unable to contain himself as he stared around at the collected treasures and knick-knacks.

"Who are you?" Henry inquired upon noticing Meara.

In all the years she'd spent dreaming of her perfect family, Henry always managed to be left out. She never quite could miss a half-brother as much as she missed the lingering hole left by her parents. Children were born with the innate knowledge that they have a mother, someone from who they're supposed to feed and be nurtured from. That kind of bond didn't seem to go the same way for a brother and sister.

"My name is Meara." It was clearly evident that Henry took after his own father, _Neal_, rather than their mother. Scanning his face she realized his eyes were a dark blue, his hair a dark brown and his face much rounder than her own, "if either of you would be so kind to untie this I'd be ever grateful."

Emma folded her arms, there was something familiar about her. The way she moved, the way she talked, her appearance, "how'd you end up here?"

"It's a long tale," Meara replied, "I'm from the Enchanted forest."

"I figured that much," Emma replied coolly.

Henry scrunched his face up examining her carefully, "are you and the Captain related?"

Meara blinked and nodded. Her mouth had gone dry, it hadn't been this hard to talk to her father, but her mother? The savior? The Emma Swan? Now that was intimating and at that moment she wished she could vanish from Emma's intense glare.

"I'm his daughter," she mumbled weakly after a few tense quiet moments.

Emma let out a dry chuckle and rolled her eyes, "Captain Hook has a kid?" she snorted, "now that's a plot twist. Now tell me why'd your father tie you up? What'd you forget to polish his hook…," she laughed at her own joke but quieted upon the silence she received from Meara and Henry, "I'm done."

"Please this rope hurts. I promise you and Henry no harm if help me."

Neal wasn't quite sure what to think when Emma, Henry and a new girl emerged from the depths of the ship. The girl was rubbing at her right wrists and looked as if she wanted to shrink or disappear completely.

"Whose she?" Neal inquired as Henry climbed the steps to the helm of the ship, eager to try and sail some more.

"Hook's daughter, her name is Meara."

It'd been possibly two or three hundred years since Neal had last seen Hook, and he was just as obsessed with revenge now as he was then. When did he find time or someone to have a kid with?

"Is Milah your mother?" Neal questioned.

The child looked confused and shook her head, "whose Milah?"

She'd seen her father's tattoo the night before and wondered who she was but figured it was best not to ask. Though a part of her wished he had a tattoo with the name Emma on it but they hadn't gotten together just yet in this time. She'd hoped their relationship was much more than just a one night stand as implied.

"Then who is your mother?"

Meara felt herself go numb. How could she tell her mother this in front of Neal? Or Henry for that matter? Surely Henry would want his parents back together as much as she wanted her parents to get together.

"No one you know," Meara murmured hoping they'd drop the subject all together. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Henry starring weirdly at her with his head titled, "what?"

"Nothing. You just seem familiar."

"Where's my father?" Meara asked.

Emma and Neal exchanged glances before turning back to face her.

"He's a little tied up." Emma supplied scratching at the back of her head.

Meara raised her eyebrow in a manner that was eerily like Hook, "is he all right?"

Emma sucked in a long breathe playing with her hands slightly, then tucking her hair behind her ears. To her surprise it was Neal who answered the girl.

"Trust me your father can take care of himself," Neal assured bitterly his eyes falling upon the scratched out P and S. Who'd ever have a child with that man?

"In Manhattan?" Meara cried angrily, "do either of you realize how big Manhattan is? Or that this land's law enforcement is much more advanced than that of the enchanted forest? Here they have jails, handcuffs, booking, lawyers, the Enchanted forest has swords, ropes, Royal guards, dungeons! It is nothing of the sort what he is accosted to, surely we must go back!" She hadn't realized she'd been ranting until she ran out of breathe and a part of her wished she was worrying because she still needed to be born but truly despite him tying her to a bed she loved him. She'd always loved them, Emma and Killian. Loved hearing any story she could get out of her grandparents or coming across any of the trinkets they'd left behind, Emma's baby blanket, Hook's ring, Emma's necklace.

"We have to get back to Storybrooke Meara Rumpelstiltskin is very sick-

"_Rumpelstiltskin_?!_ Rumpelstiltskin?_! That's why you've stolen this ship to save the Dark One?!" Meara said, "the man who created this terrible curse-

"He's Henry's grandfather," Emma protested weakly shuffling on her feet. The girl's words had intensified the guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

**A/N: Hope you still enjoy reading this story.**


	4. Chapter 4

Gran and Gramps were waiting for them at the docks when the Jolly Roger docked. For the most part they looked very much the same, it was the lightness, the hope in their eyes that was different. Losing their daughter again took its toll on the grandparents she knew and loved.

Gran's attention instantly went to Emma grazing her over with the same concerned look Meara had received many times after a sparing match.

"Whose she?" Gran inquired her hand still grasped tightly onto Emma's upper arm.

"Meara she's Hook's daughter," Emma whispered softly.

From the girl's slippers, to her wrinkled riding outfit, to her slightly flattened curled locks of hair which had a silk bow in it, to the ruby necklace that lay over her flat chest said she was no daughter of a mere pirate, but rather of the upper class, nobility or perhaps even royalty.

"She's more than just a Pirate's daughter," Snow accused slightly, "perhaps nobility, maybe even royalty."

"What does that matter at the moment?" Emma replied.

**Once Upon A Time**

Meara wasn't quite used to be at the receiving end of Granny's death glares. Granny became a third grandparent for her whilst growing up, baking things for her, sewing blankets and small little dresses for herself and her dollies when she was young. In a way Granny was a much more traditional grandmother than Snow was.

"My mom does that too," Henry piped up suddenly.

"Does what?" Meara asked. He pointed to her hand, her fingers in a fidgety motion were taping the edge of the table, "oh," And with a sheepish grin she placed her hands upon her lap, "it's a nervous habit I have."

Henry didn't seem to have any kind of aversion to her. The ten or was he eleven; seemed to regard her with kindness and spoke to her and not at her. It was hard to picture him as her _older _brother at the moment. A smirk was plastered onto his young features as if he knew something nobody else did.

"What part of the enchanted forest are you from?" Henry asked.

"The same part as Snow White and Prince Charming," Meara replied, "the castle is magnificently beautiful after they restore it-

"We go back?!" Henry cried ecstatically standing so quickly from his chair that it toppled over, "my mom, Gramps, Grandma and me we get to go home?"

Meara bite down on her lip and forced herself to look away from the happiness in his eyes, "yeah," she murmured weakly as she peeled back a cuticle. Despite Granny's best attempts to hide it a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips as she knitted a hat of sorts.

"Do we know each other in the future?" Henry inquired as he picked up the chair and plopped himself into on his knees. He leaned over the table eager to hear everything.

"I know of you in the future," Meara said hoping it'd be vague enough to be the truth and to not be suspicious, "but everyone knows about Snow White and Prince Charming and Emma."

Granny placed down her knitting, "I will be right back. Don't move an inch. Henry if you need me holler, " with one last death glare over her shoulder Granny made her way towards the bathroom.

Henry was nearly positive he knew exactly who her mother was, clearing his throat slightly he leaned closer into the table and in a hushed voice asked, "are you my sister?"

Meara's mouth opened slightly emitting barely audible gasp before trying to compose herself, before giving him an answer. Her ability to be sneaky and steal things was always thwarted by her inability to keep a straight face and her voice keeping a few pitches higher when she tried to lie. It was a "tell" Gramps explained.

"I knew it!" Henry proclaimed.

**Once Upon A Time**

It was Henry who convinced them to let her stay in the apartment until they figured out what else to do, albeit it was a sofa instead of a four poster bed it was better than staying upon an empty cold ship or on the streets. Emma was desperate for his approval and seemed to bend quite easily to a request she would haven normally denied. It was Gran's suggestion of keeping her at prison overnight which stung the most.

Snow and Charming had gone out for a walk a short while ago. Henry had been sent to bed about a half and hour ago leaving Meara with her eerily silent mother who stared blankly and barely touched the hot chocolate that Snow had made for them.

"I think these will sort of fit you," Emma muttered as she forced a pink t-shirt and a pair of plaid sweats shorts into Meara's unexpected arms.

"I'm guessing these don't belong to you," Meara said and upon Emma's questioning look she reasoned, "you don't strike me as the pink kind of person."

"What kind of person do I strike you as?"

Meara swallowed the lump in her throat and quietly replied, "You're the kind of person who wants everyone to think she's tougher than she really is, but those emotions you think you're above strike you just as hard as anyone else. Wearing pink is frivolous girly and weak."

Emma narrowed her eyes, it seemed the ability to get under her skin had been inherited from her father. The girl nervously tucked her hair behind her pointed ears and holding the clothing to her chest sat down in the uttermost graceful manner, making sure to run her hands underneath her clothing before sitting and despite wearing riding pants holding her legs perfectly next to each other.

"I was eleven years old when I first thought I loved a boy," Meara said wistfully and hesitantly watching for her mother's facial expressions. Unbeknownst to her mother this was the first time they'd ever discussed boys and butterflies formed in her stomach, "his name was Egan and he was three years older than I was. We'd been friends forever and on my eleventh birthday ball, underneath the Orchard tree, he kissed me. I thought I was in love, I thought we'd get married, have children together. I imagined this life-

"Why are you telling me this?" Emma demanded.

"Henry's father-

"Look kid, puppy love isn't the same as real love. And him going off with some other girl his age isn't the same kind of heartbreak as being left pregnant and in jail…..," Emma trailed off when she realized she'd been yelling, heaving in a deep breathe she folded her arms across her chest, "go to bed."

Meara watched as her mother climbed the steps to the loft part of the apartment until she disappeared. The living room seemed lifeless and empty as Meara began to change into the clothes, struggling slightly with the buttons on the shirt.

**Once Upon A Time**

Snow wasn't usually one to pry but this time she couldn't help herself. This girl was of high class, no daughter of a mere pirate would ever have the money to afford such cloth. When she awake that morning it wasn't yet sunrise but the sky to east was brightening just a bit. Hook's daughter was slumbering restlessly on the sofa, her knees tucked into her chest, her arm hanging off the edge of the sofa and she was entangled in the sheets.

The wrist that was tangling off the edge of the sofa still carried a visible print mark of the ropes. Disgusted Snow shook her head; the pirate was surely something to tie up his own child.

The riding outfit had been folded carefully, her bow atop of it, and a ring. Snow squatted to the side of the pile of belongings, her knees cracked loudly in protest. She may have not have aged for the last twenty-eight years but she surely felt it, especially when she pondered the fact that her daughter was nearly twenty-nine years old and she had an eleven-year-old grandson. Snow quickly glanced at Meara making sure she wasn't awoken by the sound of her loud joints she tenderly picked up the silver ring. A five pedal flower donned the front of the ring, a sign of David's family, the _royal _family. Her interests peeked as she turned the ring around and around looking for any sort of clues. An engraving on the inside read in cursive _Meara Grace Swan-Jones_.

"Snow?" David called making her jump and clasp a hand over her heart, "what are you doing up this early?" His eyes carried large bags underneath them. He hadn't slept a full night in months and despite his best efforts to hide his nightmares she, Emma and Henry had all heard his screams, but to save his ego they all pretended they didn't realize it.

"She's our granddaughter," Snow announced in a hushed manner balancing upon her legs before holding up the ring.

David's face scrunched up in confusion, "what?!"

"Emma. That's her mother."

David took the ring from Snow's hand recognizing it instantly as one of his adopted family's. Upon the naming of a royal child he or she was given a ring with their name engraved inside of it. Vaguely he could remember making out orders for Emma's shortly before the curse occurred. With slight hesitation he looked to the engraving reading the name over a few times. _Meara Grace Swan-Jones_.

"No, no, no," Meara murmured unable to stop herself as she watched her grandfather place two and two together. It was too early. They couldn't find out now. They'd tell Emma. She wasn't ready. Not now.

"Meara….," Snow began but stopped when she saw how the terrified look upon her face.

"The _pirate _and Emma?" Charming spat out irately. Snow for a moment wondered if smoke would start pouring out of his ears and nostrils like they did on Henry's Saturday cartoons.

The disgusted look on his face made Meara's insides churn. It was no well hidden secret that her Grandfather didn't like her father, Gran always said it because there wasn't a man good enough for his daughter, but the look and the tone he used when he said _pirate _alluded to different things.

"Oi!" Meara cried.

"She even sounds like him," Charming complained, "she-he silenced upon Snow's look. There was never a doubt in Snow's mind that David would be an overly protective father, he'd been so overly protective of her after they'd taken back their kingdom. She'd always have to remind him that for years she'd lived as a bandit and he'd remind her that now she was a Queen.

"Please don't tell Emma," Meara begged looking between the two people who'd been her caregivers since she was three weeks old, "_please_?"

**A/N: Reviews are truly cherished. Thanks for reading.**


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